11. Carter
CHAPTER 11
CARTER
I headed into Effervesce the following day, but the cute girl with Cinderella’s laugh never made an appearance.
“She must have the day off,” Brian murmured to me. “We’ll have to come back the next day.”
I spent all that night tossing and turning, reluctantly entertaining thoughts that melded and morphed into dreams. Maybe she had quit. I didn’t know why she would quit, unless she had already been planning to. Could she be in the back, avoiding me? I was convinced that was it. I had been much too forward, especially with the huge tip thing. I’d scared her off.
The next morning, Brian arrived to my penthouse and picked me up and we drove once more to the coffee shop my life suddenly seemed to revolve around. Brian nudged me and pointed through the window. I peered past him. The girl, the potential Cinderella, tended to a long line of customers while another two baristas behind the counter filled out the drink orders.
“That’s her,” I whispered.
“How can you tell?”
A good question. She had her face hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat, all her hair presumably piled up under it, pinned into place. She also had her glasses on, letting them sag low over her nose. With every customer now, in stark contrast to her previous behavior, she only gave infrequent glances while taking their order and handing back change.
But it was her. Her height, her stature, the set of her shoulders and the sway of her hip when she bumped the register closed. “I just can.”
“Geez, you’ve been watching this girl enough to have her measurements memorized or something? In lawyer terms, we call that stalking.”
I scowled at Brian. “I danced with her, okay? I can just feel it. If you aren’t going to be helpful…”
Brian scratched the bridge of his nose and grinned. “You think I’m letting you go it alone, you have another thing coming. I’m your ESA, remember?”
“My what?” I frowned.
“Your Emotional Support Assistant.”
My patience started to wear thin. “If you aren’t going to help, you can go wait in the car. I’m way too nervous to deal with you.”
“I’m nervous, too. For you. My joking is just a coping mechanism, don’t worry. You should try it.” Brian moved past me and opened the door.
I swore a little. The workers were too occupied to pay attention to two men standing outside the window, evidently checking out the menu. Going in would put us on their radar. Thanks to Brian, I couldn’t back out without drawing even more attention to us.
I pushed past him, my pulse thundering, making my veins throb.
After ten minutes in line, we reached the counter. I half-worried the girl would swap places with one of the other baristas, but they had a system going and seemed disinclined to break it.
“What can I get for you?” she asked, staring with extreme intent at her register.
Brian hung back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him make a little go-ahead gesture.
I leaned my elbows on the counter and smiled, surreptitiously attempting to sneak a peek under her hat. “Hi, there. Remember me?”
It seemed as though a smile flickered on her lips, there and then gone, too fast to track. “I do, sir. Will you be having your usual?”
So cold and distant. I’ve really messed up.
“I will,” I confirmed, “with two shots of espresso again. My employees will thank you for it.”
Another smile appeared, stronger, though still just as fleeting. She crushed it and nodded, tapping at the buttons on her register. “Anything for Brian?”
“Let me have a cinnamon roll latte.”
She hesitated. “That’s way sweeter than the mocha, just so you know.”
Brian grinned at her and jabbed his thumb in my direction. “I’m going to be dealing with him all day. This is going to be the only sweet thing I get.”
She started to laugh. Her eyes flashed wide and she turned her head, strangling it into a cough. “Excuse me. Okay, so cinnamon roll latte it is.”
I paid for the both of us and we went to sit down, awaiting our drinks.
“Notice anything?” Brian muttered.
“What?” I hissed back.
“She knew my name. Did you mention her to me at the party?”
I thought hard. “No. But she did know your name. Her friend wanted to meet you. Hold up. Her friend was Mary Jane. Maggie. Maggie knows who the princess is!”
“Shhh.” Brian put his finger to his lips. “Here, take this menu and pretend to look at it. Anyway, yeah, maybe Maggie does. If we can’t figure it out, I’ll ask her. But for now, we’re on our own.”
I held the menu up in front of my face, using it to disguise the peeks I took at the cute girl. More customers had come in after us, so she couldn’t possibly notice me looking at her. “You also came over and said your name the very first time we stopped here. That could be a reason.”
“Damn, you’re right.” Brian drummed his fingers on the table. “So, how certain are you now that she’s the girl?”
“Logically? About 75%.”
“And if you don’t use logic?”
“I feel it in my gut. It’s her.” I had never been so certain of something in my whole life. Though I had no concrete proof, I simply knew the princess and this underpaid barista were the same girl.
“She has to recognize you, ” Brian mused. “She saw your face. She knows you’re Carter Bryant, and she knew you were Carter Bryant at the party. Why can’t she make this easy and confirm it for us?”
“She doesn’t want me to know who she is, for some reason.”
Brian rubbed his chin.
One of the baristas called Brian’s name. I got up and grabbed our drinks and came back to the table. I handed Brian his latte, glad to be rid of the thing. It smelled like a cinnamon candle.
Brian pulled the lid off and chuckled.
I peered in. The inside of the cup wasn’t round. A swirling partition gave the drink the appearance of an actual cinnamon roll, assisted by a scattering of cinnamon and creamy icing.
“Looks as much like a candle as it smells,” he commented.
I said, “Glad I’m not alone in getting that impression.”
Brian lifted the drink to his lips for a taste. I opened my mouth to warn him about going into a sugar coma, but before I could even finish getting the first word out, a sharp yell cut me off.
“God!” A woman groaned, dragging the single-syllable word into a lament worthy of a funeral service. “I can’t stand this nonsense.”
Suzie!
I leaped into my seat and picked up the menu, trying to hide.
Brian stared at me over the rim of his cup, one eyebrow raised. I couldn’t tell who he was more confused by: me, or the complaining Suzie.
Other customers watched more openly while Suzie engaged in some very unprofessional behavior, barging around in the kitchen and being generally disruptive. Her loud complaints, at least, allowed for us to speak without being overheard.
“That’s your crazy fan, right?”
“Worse. She’s also the girl who stole me away from Cinderella.”
Brian grimaced.
I was a bit more hopeful though, even in spite of the disturbance. Suzie was just another connection, another bit of evidence showing me that my princess and this girl were one and the same.
“What’s going on?” the cute girl asked, sounding tired, though attempting to also sound like she cared.
“Megyn,” Suzie said, spinning to face her. “Megyn, have you seen my apron? June wants me to make more pastries, but I can’t find my apron. Someone must have taken it.”
“I’m sure no one took it.”
“Well, it’s not where I put it. I…” Suzie turned her head sharply.
I didn’t need to guess what—or who—she had seen. I slowly folded up the menu and murmured, “Brian?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s go. We’re walking out like we meant to all along, okay?”
Brian shrugged and stood. We headed off to the exit, Brian’s drink trailing steam. He reached the door first and tossed it open. I stepped through after him, but I couldn’t resist taking one last look over my shoulder at the girl, the princess. At Megyn.
Megyn was looking at me, too. Our eyes met. And I knew. I had already known, but now I hadn’t a shadow of a doubt in me.
I turned away and met Brian by the car. “That was her,” I told him. “It was her.”